


How He Lost His Medical License

by ImaSleepyBear



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, Nazis, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Canon, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaSleepyBear/pseuds/ImaSleepyBear
Summary: A young Medic tries to survive in Nazi Germany. In the process, he loses his medical license.Valve insisted that Medic is not a former Nazi, because that would be "too easy." In response, someone theorized that he's a Jewish German. I took the idea and ran with it.





	1. Chapter 1

_The Observer_

_July 25, 1938_

_Jews No Longer Permitted to Practice Medicine_

 

Johannes stared slack-jawed at the headline. He knew this was coming. The government had been slowly building up to it. In 1933, they forbade Jewish doctors from treating patients on government insurance. Four years later, they dictated that Jews could only treat other Jews. The next step was obvious. That didn’t make the news any less disturbing.

He got over the initial shock and moved on to the article. The ban was made legal earlier that day. The newspaper presented it as an accomplishment, of course. All Jewish doctors with their own practice would have to either shut down or hand their business over for Aryanization. Resistors would be arrested.

Johannes closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the wall of the phone booth. The action pushed his hat back so it sat at an odd angle on his head. He silently admonished himself, _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ He should have emigrated years ago, when the school burned the “unGerman” books and fired the Jewish professors. But he stubbornly refused to throw away all the hard work it took to get into Charité. Now, he had a prestigious medical degree that he couldn’t use. Not legally, at least.

A brusque knock shook the phone booth and jolted Johannes from his thoughts. He looked up and saw an irritated man peering through the window. The wall muffled his voice as he spoke, “Hey mister, if you’re not using the phone, could you come out and let someone else have at it?”

Johannes smoothed his jacket and fixed his hat. He folded the newspaper up and tucked it under his arm; he couldn’t let anyone see what had shaken him. He stepped out, apologized, and held the door open for the man.

Horrifying news aside, it was a beautiful summer day. The sky was bright, and the trees were lush and green. Berlin was brimming with life and energy. The economy was recovering and confidence in Germany was reaching a feverish pitch. Children played in the street, people smiled and tipped their hats to each other, and young ladies sent Johannes coy glances. It was almost enough to distract from the propaganda and guards posted everywhere. Johannes kept his head down.

He made it back to his apartment, shut the door behind him, and slumped against it. “Wilhelm, are you in here?”

His roommate appeared from the kitchen. “Mornin’. I was wondering where you went.”

“Took a walk.” Johannes pushed himself off the door and followed Wilhelm back into the kitchen. “You want the paper? I’m done with it.”

“Sure, thanks.” Wilhelm took it. “Are you alright? You look down.”

Johannes froze. “I’m just, uh, tired. Lot on my mind.”

“It’s not just today. You’ve been moping ever since graduation.” Wilhelm softened his voice. “Is it about the job hunt?”

Johannes relaxed. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

Wilhelm placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stress yourself out about it. You’ll find something.”

“Thanks. It must be my age. Graduating early sounds impressive, but I think employers view me as young and immature.” That was a bald-faced lie. He simply wasn’t looking very hard for a job.  

“If they can’t recognize your talent, that’s their problem.” Wilhelm unfolded the paper. “Oh hey, look at this!” He smacked it with the back of his hand. “They’re shutting down all the Jewish doctors! There’s going to be tons of job openings. You’re bound to find a position now!”

“Heh. Yeah. Great.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot: a letter came for you today. I left it on your desk.”

“A letter?” Johannes perked up. “Thanks, I’ll go look at it.” He swept into his room and tossed his hat and jacket on the bed. His desk was covered with sketches and calculations. Lately, he had been brainstorming a device that could heal people from a distance. He knew what the general design would be, but he didn’t have the specifics worked out yet.

An envelope lay on top of the mess. He picked it up, and his heart sank. It wasn’t from his parents. He hadn’t heard from them since they made plans to leave the country. He kept telling himself that they made it out safely, but couldn’t find a secure way to contact him. He shook his head, unsealed the envelope, and pulled out the letter.

Wilhelm was eating breakfast and reading the paper when Johannes returned to the kitchen. “So? What’d you get?”

“It’s from Professor Holzer,” he replied without looking up from the letter. “He says he might’ve found a job for me.”

“Hey, look at that! Your luck’s turning around! I knew it would soon.” Wilhelm tapped the newspaper. He had moved on to another page, but it was obvious what he was referencing. “Maybe it’s one of those jobs that just opened up.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t want a job; he wanted to get out of the country. But to do that, he needed money. “I guess I’ll find out.”

 ---

Several students looked at Johannes as he slipped into the lecture hall. He ignored them and locked eyes with the man at the front of the class. Professor Holzer smiled and nodded in greeting without pausing his lecture. Johannes returned the gesture before finding an empty seat. He recognized this lesson: genetic diseases. Holzer had always been fascinated by them.

“So, given all this information, can anyone tell me which chromosome haemophilia is inherited through?” Several hands went up. Holzer scanned the room. “Let’s see, who should we pick on… ah! Mister Tardy!” His gaze settled on Johannes. “Do you know? And please, show your work.”

All the students stared at Johannes, eagerly waiting for him to mess up. “Well,” he began, “haemophilia is rarely apparent in females. A healthy mother carrying the disease will almost always have healthy daughters, but afflicted sons. So, it must be attached to the X chromosome.”

“But if that’s the case, then why aren’t the daughters afflicted? They have two X chromosomes.”

“It’s recessive. If a female has one healthy X chromosome and one haemophilic X, the disease will not express itself. However, males only have a single X chromosome, so any diseases attached to it will be expressed.”

The students were disappointed, but Holzer had a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “Very good, especially considering you missed the entire lecture. Either you did the reading I assigned, or you’ve taken this class before.” He chuckled. “And with that, we’re out of time. Remember: the reading tonight is pages 247 through 263. It’s been a while since we had a pop quiz, so brace yourselves. And I expect those papers on my desk by the end of next week!”

While some students fled the room, a few lined up to ask him questions. Johannes hung back until they were done and the professor was free.

Holzer gave him a warm smile. “Young Ludwig, it’s good to see you again! Ah, but it’s Doctor Ludwig now, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. It’s good to see you too, Professor.”

When he was caught up in a spirited lecture, Holzer seemed almost too large for the room. But once they stood next to each other, it was obvious how Johannes towered over the professor’s aging frame.

“Why Ludwig, what has happened to you? You were my most enthusiastic student. Almost, dare I say it, manic. What could have brought you down so?”

“I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately.”

“From unemployment, yes? I have a solution for that!” He handed Johannes an eraser. “Here, help me clean the board.”

Johannes smirked. “You’re hiring me as your maid?”

“No, of course not! But we do need to get this done before the next class.” As they worked, Holzer described the job. “The Fuhrer is fascinated by new inventions. He wants Germany to be the technological powerhouse of the world. He’s looking for innovative minds in every field: weapons, electrical engineering, automobiles. Medicine.” He gave Johannes a look. “I showed the recruiter the sketches you gave me, and he wants to see more. I can arrange a meeting, if you like.”

Johannes nearly dropped the eraser, but forced himself to remain composed. “I… don’t know if I’m ready for such a significant job.”

“Nonsense! I would not have put your name forward if I did not know you were ready.” Holzer finished his half of the board and set the eraser down. “You are more interested in new discoveries than treating patients. It’s obvious. You belong at the forefront of this scientific revolution. Your talents would be wasted in a backwater hospital or a battlefield clinic. This opportunity, this is your destiny!”

He wasn’t about to help turn the Nazi Party into a "technological powerhouse." But if he continued to decline, it would look suspicious. Johannes swallowed. “Alright. I’ll speak with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Observer is an English translation of the official Nazi propaganda newspaper, Vőlkischer Beobachter. [Here](https://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/nazi-germany/newspapers-in-nazi-germany/) is some more info on Nazi censorship and propaganda.  
> 2\. The Charite, founded in 1710, is the largest university hospital in Europe. From Wikipedia: "Its medical school is one of the most prestigious and competitive in Germany with admission rates lower than 5%."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical notes at the end.

Johannes checked the creases in his pants and smoothed down a small wrinkle. He adjusted his collar and straightened his tie. He tugged the sleeves of his jacket back so he could fix the cuffs of his shirt.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” Holzer chastised around his cigar. “You look sharp as always. Like a smart, professional young man. Which is good, because that’s what you are.” His jacket was draped over the back of his chair, his shirt was wrinkled, and his tie was askew. Once you’re old and established, you can get away with that stuff.

“I know. It just makes me feel better.”

“You’ll be fine. He already knows you’re qualified for the job. This is just to discuss the details of you’d be doing.”

Johannes didn’t want to discuss details. He wanted to put a large distance between himself and the Nazis. Maybe an ocean, too. He knew a lot of people were going to America via Morocco. His parents would have gone to France or England, somewhere familiar, but Johannes would rather play it safe.

The two men were sitting on the patio of a small cafe that served traditional German food. It had been operating in Berlin for three generations. Those three generations had all been Jewish. They served German dishes because they weren’t just Jews; they were Germans. They loved their country. They didn’t want to leave.

Johannes reviewed the lunch menu again. It didn’t change much after Aryanization. Spaetzle noodles. Leberkase. Schnitzel. He wondered what he would miss after he left.

The waitress came by and refilled their water glasses. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else while you’re waiting?”

Holzer handed her his empty beer glass. “I could stand to become a little more inebriated, my dear,” he said with a sly wink.

The waitress barely suppressed an eye roll as she took the glass. She turned to Johannes. “And what about you, sir? Would you like anything else to drink?”

“No, thank you. We are here for work, even if my colleague can’t remember that.”

The waitress giggled more than the joke really called for. After she vanished into the building, Johannes gave Holzer a cheeky smile. The older man frowned and crossed his arms. “Once upon a time, that would have worked.”

“Only in your fantasies.”

Holzer saw something over Johannes’s shoulder that lit up his eyes. He stubbed his cigar into the ashtray and then stood and whistled sharply. “Wolfram! We’re over here!”

Johannes turned around in his chair. A tall man, straight and sharp as an icepick, had approached the cafe’s main entrance. Once Holzer called to him, he changed course for the patio. A short, wrought-iron gate kept pedestrians from wandering through the cafe’s territory. Holzer rushed forward to open the gate for the man while Johannes stood to greet him.

“Good day, gentlemen.” He shook Holzer’s hand, then Johannes’s. “And a beautiful day, at that. Excellent seating choice, Matthaus.”

“I’ve been cooped up in that lecture hall all summer,” Holzer replied. “I simply had to get out of doors. Remind me to never agree to summer classes again.”

“I did, actually. After last summer.”

Holzer shrugged. “Love the work, hate the location.” He gestured to his pupil with a flourish. “Wolfram, I present to you the young genius, Dr. Johannes Ludwig. Ludwig, this is my good friend, Dr. Wolfram Bretz.”

“ _Doctor_ Ludwig?” Bretz looked Johannes up and down. “My, but you look like a child. A tall child, of course.” He gave the young man a pat on the shoulder. “Broad, too. Quite Nordic.” Johannes tensed. He had seen the posters listing the differences between the glorious Nordic Aryans and the other races, the “inferior” ones.

Holzer beamed. “He may be young, but he’s got what it takes. Smart, ambitious, good genes. Men like him are the future.”

 _This is a good thing,_ Johannes told himself. _They don’t suspect. This is good. Nothing’s wrong. Don’t panic._

“I’ll have to see a demonstration of his abilities before I can judge.” Bretz gestured to the table. “But there’ll be time for that later. For now, let’s see about lunch.”

The waitress returned with Holzer’s beer, took everyone’s orders, and whisked the menus away. She smiled at Johannes the whole time. He thought about those posters again. Along with the ones trumpeting Aryan superiority, there were the posters that warned against “racial defilement.” It showed a dark, ugly, Jewish man invading the personal space of a pale, beautiful, blonde woman. There was no nudity, of course, but the implication was clear. He didn’t look the waitress in the eye.

Holzer’s cigar continued to smoulder in the ashtray, wrapping the table in its warm scent. Bretz leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine. Like Holzer, he had taken off his jacket, but the clothes underneath were much neater. “So Matthaus, how’s your research coming along?”

The professor’s eyes glimmered. Those were the magic words. “Leaps and bounds, my friend! There’s definitely a connection between the genes that determine race and certain hereditary diseases.”

Johannes froze. This was the first he had heard of Holzer's research.

Bretz smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” Of course he was. “Now, if you heeded your own advice and stopped teaching summer classes, your work would be coming along more quickly.”

Holzer chuckled. “That would require more sense than I have.”

“I’ve got a young man on my radar--Dr. von Verschuer tipped me off to him--who just finished a fascinating doctoral thesis on the genetics behind cleft palates. He’s in basic training now, with the mountain infantry.” Bretz gestured to Johannes with his wine glass. “You won’t have to bother with that, of course. Your research will be your top priority. Anyway, this other young man… what was his name? Ah yes, Mengele.” He took a sip and nodded to Holzer. “I’ll find the paper and pass it along to you. Maybe we can arrange for him to assist with your work. Von Verschuer tells me he’s very reliable and articulate.”

The old men continued talking shop. Johannes distracted himself by watching the passersby. When their lunch arrived, Bretz returned to the matter at hand.

“I’m very interested in this… heart device your mentor showed me.” He eyed the young doctor. “The Fuhrer wants his soldiers to be the most powerful in the world. Super-soldiers, if you will.”

Sweat rolled down Johannes's back, tracing a cool line between his shoulder blades. He couldn't say if it was from the summer heat or the conversation. “I-it’s in the very early stages of conceptualization. I doubt it’ll be ready for some time. A long time.”

Bretz waved his hand as if to dismiss his concerns. “You’ll have everything you need at your disposal. A laboratory, the latest technology, our entire library of scientific knowledge. Plenty of test subjects.” He pointed his knife at Johannes. “We’re going to war soon.”

Johannes thought he was going to throw up. That was such a stupid choice. He shouldn’t have trusted Holzer with his ideas. He shouldn’t have trusted anyone at that school. The Party purged anyone who opposed them. That left only one type of person.

“Ludwig,” Holzer said, “you’re not eating.”

“I’ve… been a little unwell. What’s this war?”

Bretz cut into his schnitzel. “The annexation of Austria was natural. We are the same people; we belong to the same nation. The Austrians agreed, so the union was peaceful. However, if we’re going to assert German dominance over the rest of the continent, we’ll have to use force.” He washed the meat down with a sip of wine. “That’s where you and your invention come in. The Party will hire you as a doctor for soldiers and officials. When you’re not busy with patients, you’ll be free to work on your research.”

“Th-thank you. This is a, a huge opportunity. But I don’t know if I can accept it.”

Holzer set his beer back on the table. “He’s just being modest. He was like this earlier. I think it’s because he was the youngest in his class; it’s made him a little insecure.” He reached across the table and placed a hand on Johannes’s arm. “You’re ready for this, my boy. Have faith in yourself.”

“No, he is right to be cautious. This is a momentous opportunity, but it will also likely determine the course of his career. He should have some time to think about it.” Bretz looked at Johannes again. “Of course, I would prefer that you accept our offer. We could use a man as gifted as you.”

\---

Johannes lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. The salary Bretz quoted has huge. It didn’t even include the research fund. He could easily abscond to America with that much money. There would be enough to buy the fake papers, pay for travel, and still have something to live off of once he got there.

He didn’t even have to make any actual progress. Bretz knew the device would take a long time. All Johannes had to do was stall for a month, putter around in the laboratory and look busy. Of course, he also had to keep his identity hidden while surrounded by the very people trying to eliminate all traces of his kind. There was also the possibility of bearing witness to--or worse, assisting in--more atrocities.

He rolled over and looked at the clock again. He needed to sleep.

He had a big day ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. [Here](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2a/Deutsches_Historisches_Museum_Der_St%C3%BCrmerplakat.jpg/320px-Deutsches_Historisches_Museum_Der_St%C3%BCrmerplakat.jpg) is the "racial defilement" poster.
> 
> 2\. The restaurant's menu is based on a cute, little German restaurant in my hometown. Spaetzle is basically egg noodles. Schnitzel is a way of frying meat, but in Germany it may refer to meat cutlets in general. Leberkase is a special meat served as a snack or appetizer, or on a sandwich.
> 
> 3\. I spent a while researching the Nazis' racial ideology to make sure I got the details right. I'm probably on a list now.
> 
> 4\. From the Wikipedia article on Mengele: "In January 1937, he joined the Institute for Hereditary Biology and Racial Hygiene in Frankfurt, where he worked for Dr. Otmar Freiherr von Verschuer, a German geneticist with a particular interest in researching twins. As von Verschuer's assistant, Mengele focused on the genetic factors that result in a cleft lip and palate, or a cleft chin. His thesis on the subject earned him a cum laude doctorate in medicine (MD) from the University of Frankfurt in 1938... In a letter of recommendation, von Verschuer praised Mengele's reliability and his ability to verbally present complex material in a clear manner."
> 
> 5\. Mengele was indeed doing his basic training with the Gebirgsjäger (light infantry mountain troop) in 1938.
> 
> 6\. The annexation of Austria (Anschluss) wasn't nearly as peaceful as the Nazis presented it. While a lot of Austrians supported it, and huge crowds cheered as the Nazis entered Vienna, evidence suggests that the majority favored independence and did not want to submit to a foreign power. Thousands of Austrians tried to flee the country after the annexation, and those caught were arrested and thrown into concentration camps. The Austrian government resisted until the very end, and Hitler almost had to take the country by force. Instead, the Nazis marched into Austria and arranged for the citizens to vote on the Anschluss. The result was 99.73% in favor of annexation, but the election was probably illegitimate. Nazi officials watched people mark their votes, and voters had to hand their ballots to the officials instead of placing them in a box. Within Germany, however, the Nazi party and its propaganda outlets claimed that Austrians unanimously supported the Anschluss and it went off without a hitch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [places defibrillator pads on fic] CLEAR! [zap] [heartbeat] It's ALIVEEEEEEEE!

Johannes finally admitted to himself that he had enjoyed working in the lab for the past month. He told himself that he wouldn’t do any actual work, but he couldn’t resist taking advantage of the resources available. For the first time, his ideas were no longer confined to notes scribbled on the back of his homework.

The healing gun had made the most progress. On his first try, Johannes built one that could reach a man from across the room. After that blew up, he switched to a smaller scale. This prototype required skin contact, but unlike the first one, it worked. At least, in theory. It was still missing a vital ingredient.

Johannes set the device back on the workbench and wiped his brow. During his last weekly visit, Bretz expressed approval of the healing gun, but he pressured Johannes to shift his focus to the heart implant. He said the idea of invincible super-soldiers appealed to his superiors, and the fuhrer himself looked forward to seeing the results. Even though Bretz claimed to serve Germany’s interests, Johannes saw the bloodlust stirring in those cold, steely eyes.

The young doctor removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the grip of Bretz and his ilk tightening around his neck. They wanted that power, that technology. They wanted to crack open Johannes’s brain and scoop out everything they could use. And the longer Johannes was hiding in their midst, the more opportunities he had to slip up and reveal his identity. He had to get out of here before that grip strangled him.

Over the past month, he had saved up enough money to book passage to America. He had accomplished his goal. It was time to grab everything he could and make a run for it.

“Young Ludwig!”

Johannes jumped, dropped his glasses, and fumbled to catch them. They bounced off his hands a few times before he managed to grab them. “Uh, hello Professor Holzer.” He placed his glasses back on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting you, of course! I heard you were doing great things in this lab.” Holzer circled the room with his hands behind his back, gazing in admiration at the schematics and bits of machinery lying everywhere. “And it looks like the rumors are correct. You are well on your way to joining the likes of Jenner, Pasteur, and the late Madame Curie.”

“You’re either overestimating my abilities or buttering me up so you can beg a favor.”

“Ha! I am hurt, young Ludwig! You think so little of me?”

“I think little of the both of us.”

“Well, I can be content with that.” He joined his former student at the workbench. “And what is this? Could this be the result of those drawings you gave me so many months ago?”

“It’s a smaller version.” Johannes picked up the gun. “This one injects the formula directly into the flesh.” He pressed the muzzle to his bicep. “Like that. I’m hoping to move on to the ranged version after I perfect this one.”

“Fascinating! Is it operational?”

“The device is, but not the formula. I’m still waiting on the final ingredient. The shipment should be here by Friday.” He handed it over for Holzer to examine.

“I knew it from the moment we met, young Ludwig: you shall lead the next generation of great minds.”

“There you go again with the exaggerated flattery.”

“I suppose it is an exaggeration; I can’t see the future, but I can make a decent guess.” He handed the gun back, and Johannes set it on the workbench. “Now, I must confess something: I came here with a specific purpose.”

“Besides interrupting my work to sass me?”

“You do not receive enough sassing, young Ludwig. It is good for you. Builds character.” Holzer found a chair and settled into it. “But now is not the time for that. We have a serious matter to discuss.”

“What matter?”

“Wolfram--that is, Doctor Bretz--was looking for information about your lineage.” Johannes’s vision tunnelled. “He’s curious to see if your genius has a genetic root, and where we can find more men and women with similar talents. However, he could not find any records of your family. He asked if I knew anything, and I claimed you were an orphan. Abandoned as an infant, with no knowledge of your origin.” Holzer lowered his voice. “There’s only one reason you could have to hide your identity.”

Johannes gripped the edge of the workbench and leaned on it so he wouldn’t collapse. “I-I don’t know what you’re…”

“Relax, young Ludwig. I am not about to give you away.” Holzer sighed and leaned forward. He spoke in a soft, gentle tone, “You are a great mind, Johannes. You possess immeasurable cunning, ingenuity, and passion. You are motivated by curiosity and love of the craft instead of material gain. Mentally, you have no faults. And everyone agrees you appear physically Nordic. Even Wolfram doesn’t suspect anything, and he is constantly searching for flaws to isolate and study.” He smiled. “You have nothing to fear. Your secret is safe with me.”

Johannes released the breath he was holding. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You do not need to call me that. We are fellow professionals.” He winked. “And conspirators.”

“In that case, thank you, Holzer.”

“You are most welcome, young Ludwig.” He stood. “Now, just to clarify: you are fully Jewish? Not a half-breed?”

Even though Holzer claimed to be trustworthy, Johannes still hesitated before nodding. “Yes, I am.” He couldn’t even remember the last time he had admitted his ethnicity out loud.

“Fascinating. If two Jews produced one such as you, I must reconsider my theories concerning Semitic genetics.”

“I--and the rest of my kind--would appreciate that.”

“I am glad to have met you, young Ludwig. I taught you much in that lecture hall, and now you have returned the favor.” His face darkened. “But you are not completely safe. Even though Bretz does not suspect the truth, he is still curious about your heritage. He may continue investigating. It pains me to say this, but it is best that you leave the country.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’ll make the plans today.”

“Excellent. I will miss you, but I am glad you will be safe. I apologize for… for the state of things.”

“There’s no need for that. You’re not the one who sicced the entire country on my people.”

“But I allowed myself to be swept up in the fervor. I cannot call myself a scientist if I do not practice proper skepticism. Thank you for opening my eyes, even if you did not do so deliberately.”

Johannes smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

“As a matter of curiosity, where will you go?”

“Probably America. There’s something exciting about it. And there’s an entire ocean between it and the Third Reich.”

Holzer chuckled. “Perhaps I will join you there one day. But first, I must undo the damage I have done here. Speaking of which, I must be off. The fall semester begins soon, and once again, I am completely unprepared.” Holzer gave a theatrical bow. “Farewell, young Ludwig.”

Johannes returned the bow. “Thank you, Holzer. For everything.”

He waited for Holzer to leave before launching into panic mode. He set a bag on the operating table and tossed in everything of import: notes, blueprints, prototypes. The medigun still needed that bone marrow, but that would have to wait. For now, it was going in the bag. One of the other prototypes proved too big to fit, so he destroyed it. He couldn’t risk the Nazis getting ahold of it.

As Johannes was yanking open the cabinets in search of anything he forgot, he paused. One of the cabinet doors was thicker than the others. He knocked on it; it was hollow. He ran his hand across the inner surface until his nails caught on a thin, straight groove. It turned out to be the side of a square. Johannes grabbed a screwdriver, slipped it into the groove, and popped the square out. His jaw dropped. There was a tape recorder embedded in the cabinet door.

He switched it off and then continued staring at it in dumbfounded horror. How long had it been there? The past month? Just today? Was it normal for the Nazis to spy on their scientists? Or was it set up just for this conversation? No; Johannes didn’t want to believe that.

He extracted the tape and then slipped the cover back into place and shut the door. Okay, that was done. But whoever was spying on him would see that the tape was missing and know he was hiding something. No matter what, he was cornered. He needed to get the hell out of there.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Johannes dropped the tape in the bag and stuffed the bag into a cabinet. He forced the cabinet shut just in time for Bretz to walk in. “Good afternoon, Doctor Ludwig.”

“Doctor Bretz! Good afternoon.” Was his voice higher than normal? Johannes cleared his throat.

“How much progress have you made?” He came to a stop in front of the workbench. “Hm, looks emptier than last week.”

Johannes’s heart stopped. “That’s… because… the prototype is ready.”

“The healing gun?”

“Better: the heart device. The one to make the super soldiers.” Johannes smiled. “In fact, I was just about to go looking for a test subject.”

\---

Johannes checked the face mask one more time and made sure the anesthesia was flowing. He pulled open Bretz’s eyelid and waved. No response. He felt the pulse in the Bretz’s neck; all good there.

He stepped back. The medigun needed the red bone marrow, the type that was still producing new blood cells. Most of an adult’s red marrow is located in the torso: the spine, ribs, sternum, and pelvis. Of course, he could go ahead and take the entire skeleton out, just to see if it was possible.

Johannes picked up a scalpel and examined the blade. His eyes glinted and his face slid into a dark, toothy grin. Finally, he had a chance to practice medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Some fun facts I learned while researching this chapter...  
> First open heart surgery: 1925  
> First sexual reassignment surgery: 1931 (way earlier than I thought)  
> First bone marrow transplant: 1958 (unsuccessful)  
> First successful bone marrow transplant: 1968
> 
> 2\. I can't stop reading Bretz as Bratz. Fortunately, he's not coming back for the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I struggle with action scenes.

_ Holzer,  _

_ By the time you get this, you’ll know what happened. I’m sorry. I know he was your friend. All I can say is that I was backed into a corner, and there was only one way out.  _

Johannes’s grip on the pen loosened. That wasn’t true. He didn’t need the medigun to leave Germany; he just wanted to see it completed. Even then, it was unnecessary to remove a man’s entire skeleton. But once he had a willing subject on the table, a strange mania grabbed hold of him. All he could see was the next step, the next discovery, the next limit to reach and break. The worst part was that he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. 

Johannes sighed and closed out the letter: 

_ I hope you’ll forgive me, and that we’ll meet again under better circumstances. Whatever the future brings, please take care of yourself.  _

He didn’t sign it. If someone found the letter and knew who it was from, Holzer would be implicated. God only knew what would happen to him then. 

Johannes sealed the envelope and then slipped it into the train station’s mail dropbox. That was it. His last communication with anyone here in Germany. He had already exchanged goodbyes with Wilhelm. All the threads were cut. Time to move on. 

The train would take him to Paris first, followed by Madrid and Lisbon. The Portuguese city was one of the last neutral ports in Europe; if you wanted to sail to America, you had to pass through Lisbon. 

Johannes checked his train ticket and then felt around under his jacket. His fingers brushed against the outline of the Luger. It was his father’s during the Great War. When Johannes’s parents left for England, they left the pistol behind. His father said Johannes would need it more. At first, the son had hoped it would not prove true. Now, he hoped his parents had not found themselves in a situation where they needed it more than him. 

He moved his hand a little and found the edge of the medigun. As eager as he was to see if it worked, he didn’t want to be the first test subject. 

Johannes picked up his suitcase and made his way through the crowd. Jewish families huddled on the platform, holding nothing but each other and their emigration papers. Johannes locked eyes with a bedraggled father and gave him a sad smile. The father let out a joyless chuckle. “Lucky bastard.” 

A departing train whistled and released a burst of steam that fogged the platform. As the steam dissipated, Johannes noticed a pair of men far ahead of him that were not there a moment ago. Their crisp suits and confident posture stood out from the ragged emigrants around them. They were scanning the crowd in search of something. Johannes’s blood went cold. He turned around and pulled his hat lower over his face. 

After agonizing over the letter for so long, Johannes didn’t have time to search for another path. If he kept his head down and acted casual, could he walk right by them? No, that was a stupid idea. Maybe he could buy a different ticket, go to another town in Germany, and then find a way out from there? That plan carried its own risks, but it might work. It would have to be the next train out of Berlin; waiting around the station would be a death sentence. 

Johannes felt a tap on his shoulder that nearly stopped his heart. He spun around to find the father from earlier. The man pointed down the platform to a train that had just pulled in and blocked the view between the two sides of the station. Johannes thanked the father and headed that way. He watched the Gestapo through the corner of his eye, waited for a gap in their attention, and then stepped onto the coupling between two train cars. He dropped down onto the tracks, crossed the station, and pulled himself up onto the other platform. 

A second pair of government men stood in front of him. 

Johannes touched the bulge under his jacket where the Luger lay. He looked around. If he made a run for that passenger train over there and then walked all the way through it, he would emerge near his goal. Then he could cut back across the station, board his train, and be home free. Not a perfect plan, but it was better than standing around and waiting for the Gestapo to notice him. 

Before he even made it to that passenger train, he heard shouts behind him. “Stop! Identify yourself!” Johannes quickly weighed his options and chose to keep moving. He jumped onto the train and made his way down the aisle. By the time the Gestapo boarded, he was crossing over to the next car. 

They caught up to him in the third car. His legs froze at the sound of the door opening behind him. The agents didn’t bother with a warning before they opened fire. A woman screamed. Johannes ducked and sprinted the last few feet. Something ripped through his shoulder, but he made it through the door. He grit his teeth and clutched his shoulder as he jumped the coupling and slipped into the fourth car. 

Instead of continuing down the length of the train, he slid into the seat next to the door. He kept the pressure on his shoulder as he dug around for the Luger. A few of the passengers eyed him. Johannes ducked out of their sight. He raised the gun and positioned himself. 

The door opened, and Johannes stopped breathing. The first agent stepped through and scanned the car. Johannes pulled the trigger. A red hole opened up in the man’s neck. Johannes fired again, and the man collapsed to the side. 

The second agent pointed his gun around the corner and fired blindly. Johannes ducked, swore, and then slid to the floor. He waited for the agent to peek around the corner, and then nailed him in the head. 

The ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head faded. As the silence set in, Johannes realized the train car was empty save him and the bodies. The passengers must have fled. The police would be here soon. Not to mention the team that was patrolling the other side of the station. On top of all that, his shoulder was still wounded. Johannes swore again. He stood up using the seat as support. His left arm had trouble moving, and he could feel his head swimming from the blood loss. If he didn’t take care of this first, he wouldn’t make it to his train. 

Well, if he was about to be cornered and executed, he might as well test his invention before he died. 

Johannes took off his jacket and let himself fall into the seat. He unbuttoned his shirt just enough to pull it to the side and expose his shoulder. Since he had been shot from behind, the front of his clothes were clean. Hopefully, no one would notice the hole in the back. With his left hand, Johannes felt around for the bullethole, and with his right, he pulled the medigun from his belt. He reached around, pressed the muzzle to the wound, and pulled the trigger. 

There was a hissing sound as his flesh rapidly stitched itself together. The other hissing sound was Johannes biting back a pained scream. He couldn’t see how much the wound had healed, so he took a guess. He removed the gun and gingerly pressed at the flesh. The hole had been filled in, but the skin on top was still a bloody, squishy mess. That was fine; he was no longer in danger of bleeding out. The field test was a success. The medigun worked. 

\--- 

Johannes stared out the window as the train pulled away from the station. The streets of Berlin passed by, slowly at first, then faster and faster. 

The train would make several stops before it reached the French border. There were bound to be government agents at each one. That was fine; the Luger still had bullets, and the medigun still had fuel. Most importantly, Johannes knew he could take care of himself. 

He pulled his suitcase into his lap and popped it open. He sifted through the contents until he found the audio tape. His last conversation with Holzer. Johannes smiled. It was possible the whole thing was a trap meant to expose him, but he chose to believe otherwise. 

Johannes shut the suitcase and set it back down. It finally dawned on him that he might not have a medical license anymore. Well, no matter. He could apply for a new one in America. He leaned back and looked out the window again. Did he actually want one? Holzer was right; Johannes was far more interested in research than treatment. The medigun worked, but there was so much he could do to improve its design. Ideally, he would like to test it in the field. Lab work was all well and good, but using the medigun after a firefight had was much more satisfying. 

He rested his chin on his hand. What if he signed up for the US military? He could work in their labs or go overseas as a field medic. He might even get the chance to take back his country from the Nazis. 

The train reached the outskirts of Berlin. Brick and stone gave way to lakes and forests. Johannes’s journey had begun. He was on his way to America. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical Notes:   
> 1\. I was wrong before. For some reason, I thought Jews were barred from leaving Germany in 1938. That wasn't the case until 1939. In the meantime, they were subjected to the Flight Tax; all emigrants had to pay for permission to leave the country. It started as a way to stop wealthy citizens from taking their money out of the country while the economy was recovering. However, it became an excuse to rob fleeing Jews. In 1934, the tax was 20% of a household's assets; by 1939, it was 96%. Also, private businesses were required to report to the government any signs that a person was about to emigrate; for example, selling property, canceling insurance policies, etc. 
> 
> 2\. I did some research about air travel during WWII to see if it would be more plausible for Johannes to take a train or plane. I learned some interesting things. Here's a website if you're interested: http://www.century-of-flight.net/new%20site/commercial/Flight%20in%20the%201930s.htm 
> 
> Thank you for reading my fanfic.


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